


The Apex Predator, With A Sermon For The Listener; Seduce And Destroy

by MasterKacey



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Anarch Movement (Vampire: The Masquerade), Assassins, F/F, F/M, Multi, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterKacey/pseuds/MasterKacey
Summary: Lilah Discordia: Vampire, stripper, assassin. She escaped the Mountain, and now she's set on staking a claim on whatever the hell she wants.





	1. Chapter 1

Manhattan, New York. June 1968.

She was so innocent. Like a lamb that had somehow wandered into wolf's den. The cheers, the money she made, it was more from the excitement of a woman's naked form than from any talent or sexuality she possessed. Her costumes were bland and plain, her dancing subdued.

  
And I wanted her. I wanted her corrupted.  
  
The other dancers hustled the customers the moment they stepped from the stage. She stayed back, too submissive to approach, retreating when she was approached in turn. I had work to do. An entire mission to complete and squadron to command. Yet, here I was. Stalking this lamb.  
  
I couldn't not tempt her. She jumped when I appeared at her back, wrapping my hands around her waist. Turning as if to chastise me, she met my eyes and allowed me to pull her onto the dance floor. With only the slightest prompting, she moved her body against mine, her soft hips provoked into responding to mine. I'm gentle, I don't push her. Nevertheless I hear her pulse quicken as we dance. I chuckle slightly, bringing my lips to her ear, sharing words in lover's tones.  
"You move like someone who's never been fucked."  
Blood rushes to her pale cheeks, staining them with a charming blush. I let her feel my mouth curl into a smile against her skin, and I kiss the goosebumps that form under my lips. Before she can speak, I leave her, pink cheeked and dumbfounded.  
  
I stay away for several nights, attempting to convince myself that she is truly what I want. I think of her yearning for me, for what I can give her. Just like that, I'm back at the club. I watch the other dancers with disinterest, until I hear them announce her name. Delilah. The sweet little thing doesn't even know how to pick an enticing name for herself. She takes the stage, still with the same hesitance, still with the same inexperience. I share just a taste. Almost immediately, she responds. Her movement becomes more erotic, more untamed. Her hands search her own body, as if discovering it for the first time and sharing her discovery with the world. I sit at the bar, reveling in the sight of her. As the set ends, the crowd goes wild. She seems to come back to herself, gathering her cast off clothing and collecting the crumpled currency scattered across the stage, before scampering from the spotlight with a stunned sort of satisfaction.  
  
Again, the next night. She gets a taste. Just a tease, but enough for her to dominate the stage and crowd. She feeds off the energy, coercing dances and drinks from the men. I let her see me, in the midst of the throng. She licks her lips candidly, making a stumbling show as she approaches my stool. The stink of tequila hangs around her in a fog, but her green eyes stare steadily into mine. Haphazardly, her mouth meets mine, and I drown in the bitter taste of her tongue. Growling against her lips, I twist my fist in her hair. She balks slightly, pulling back to meet my eyes again. Her voice is wavering, heady with fear and desire. "Who are you?"  
I hold her gaze, drinking in her conflicted expression. I let her savor what I give her before answering, keeping my tone even and low. "Vada." I tilt her head back slightly. "Who are you?"  
Her answer is a gasp, as she feels the coolness of my tongue trace a path along her throat. "...yours."  
It's the right answer. The only answer.  
  
~  
  
Hair spread over the pillow in a coal black fan, she peers down at me as I settle between her knees. Her gaze is steady and devoted, I feel it on me as I check the sharpness of my blade. Casually, almost unconcerned, I comment: "It's going to hurt."  
She pushes the elastic band of her panties down, exposing the bare skin above one hip. Her smile is coy, and there's no question in her tone as she replies. "I trust you."  
I bring the tip of the blade to her flesh, a brief smile crossing my lips as I press down, parting layers of flesh. "I know." As drunk as she is on liquor, I become just as intoxicated by the scent of blood as I cut into her.  
She doesn't cry out or flinch, simply watching with a growing confusion as I finish the design. "I can't read it," she comments, almost hesitant.  
I meet her eyes, drawing the bloodied blade delicately up her belly. "You don't need to, you just need to know that I've claimed you." Once more, her cheeks turn that alluring shade of pink, darkening further as I wedge the blade under her bra, splitting the fabric and exposing her breasts. Eagerness creeps into my tone as I inquire: "You've never been with a man, have you?" As I expected, she doesn't reply. I toss the knife onto the end table with a clatter, hooking my thumbs under the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her thighs as I move further down the bed. Her heart beat is as audible as my own voice as I speak again. "Have you ever been with anyone?" I keep my eyes on her bare form, overlooking the barely perceptible shake of her head to watch the heat from cheeks spread, bringing a light sheen of sweat to her neck and chest. I chuckle, and her body tenses as the forced exhale of air whispers across her flesh. I turn my eyes up to meet hers, letting her watch as I press my index and middle fingers between my lips, tongue dancing against my own skin as I draw the moistened digits from my mouth. "Looks like I'm staking a few claims tonight."  
  
~  
  
They move with an impossibly silent speed, leaping from sidewalk to street, dodging the hail of bullets that pursue the pair. Lilah laughs against the blade clenched between her teeth, meeting the eyes of the blond at her side. They come to a high wall, and Vada curses as the beast they're hunting begins climbing out of their reach. She pulls the blade from between Lilah's jaws, heaving it at the creature. It lodges in the creature's back, hindering it's progress only fractionally. Lilah watches with a worshipful sort of awe and Vada takes off after the injured beast, running up the wall as they ran down the sidewalk moments ago. She quickly turns her attention to the rapidly approaching gunmen, arms lifting as she pulls her kukri from their sheaths. A brief flash of skin at her midriff reveals a line of Arabic letters, long since healed. Weapons clenched in her hands she gestures towards the armed men with her fingers, crimson eyes sparkling and a shout on her lips. "تعال واحصل عليه!"  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Cairo, Egypt. Aug 1978.

Exiting the helicopter, the squadron begins to spread out. Lilah fastens a vest around her torso, checking her knives and turning her enthusiastic gaze to the statuesque blond woman before her. "Want to keep a tally? See which one of us bags more Sabbat?"

The blond cracks the smallest of smiles, but it's short lived. "I don't like splitting up. Doesn't seem like the best tactic.."  
Lilah interrupts the woman with a lingering kiss. "Vada, you worry too much. Two teams, bosses orders. What could go wrong?" The blond woman doesn't respond, checking the ammo in her gun and moving to flank the opposite side of the temple. Lilah watches her walk away with an adoring gaze, before moving with her own squad.  
A friendly arm drapes over her shoulder, and she meets the lightly glowing amber eyes and mischievous smile of one of her compatriots. "Better get your head in the game, lovebird." The man nudges her with his shoulder, running his free hand through his sandy hair.  
Lilah glances at the sword on his back, matching his smirk with one of her own. "What's the matter, Samael? I thought you'd be able to take the whole pack on your own?"  
He laughs. "Yeah, yeah. I like to give you peons a chance for glory too." A gruff voice shushes them from the front of the group. Lilah rolls her eyes and follows the group inside.  
  
The building is dark and ominously quiet. Weapons are drawn in anticipation. The squad leader speaks in a whisper, "The books should be in the next room. The other group should be making a distraction soon."  
A distraction does in fact occur, but not by either of the squadrons of Kindred. A horde of szlatcha descend upon the group, only slightly hindered by the wave of gunfire that meets them.  
"The books!" a voice shouts.  
One of the Kindred break from the ranks, moving with an impossible speed towards the room ahead. "On it!" At Lilah's side, Samael draws his sword, impaling it through a smaller beast and flinging it into a nearby wall. Lilah draws a handful of her knives across her tongue, a good luck gesture before flinging them at one of the creatures. The creature drops immediately, squealing in pain before ceasing to move altogether. The group holds back the beasts, as a figure comes running back through the szlatcha, tucking an armful of books into her bag. Several of the creatures jump at her, but are sent careened backwards with a shout and a gesture.  
"Got em!" The woman shouts. From an adjacent hallway, the second group arrives, chased back by several Tzimisce.  
"Time to go kids," remarks one of the second group.  
  
Lilah meets the eyes of her blond compatriot, relieved to see the woman with only minor injuries. As the groups attempt to merge together, fire erupts between them. Another pop, as the neighboring hallway alights as well, trapping the second group. Lilah whips around, squinting her eyes against the heat. The flames quickly engulf the other room, and the sound of screaming comes from the second group. "Vada!" Lilah shouts, moving towards the blaze even as another wave of szlatcha descend on them.  
She's pulled away by strong arms, and Samael's voice is in her ear. "It's a trap! We've got to get out of here!" She barely hears his impatient growl as he retrieves his sword with one hand, running it through the creature about to take a hefty bite from Lilah's calf. A weak voice calls her name from the other side of the flames, and Lilah lets out a keening wail. Before she can make another potentially dangerous move towards the voice, a strong hand strikes across her cheek, rocking her head back and snapping her attention towards Samael. His expression is almost as pained as her own, but his eyes glow with resolve. "We have a job to do, and part of it is to get out alive. Come on." Lilah swallows hard, gritting her teeth and nodding. In a impossibly quick flash of movement, she sends a flurry of knives into the chest of a multi-armed monstrosity approaching them. She flinches as the screams continue from behind them, pausing only to pull a fallen comrade to their feet. The squad begins to make it's retreat. Gunfire rings out and several of the group, Lilah included, take a burning round of ammunition in their backs.  
  
The fresh night air is steps away when an enormous creature smashes through the wall. It drops onto all fours, roaring at the Kindred. It's arrival is met with cacophony of curses in multiple languages. The towering beast barely flinches from the oncoming attacks. Brashly, Lilah descends on the creature, striking it's thick carapace over and over. Claws catch her side, before the creature's limb is sliced off by one of the other Kindred. The creature roars again, it's putrid breath gusting her hair back. Lilah shrieks in response, flinging her fist towards the roaring mouth. The creature catches her arm in it's mouth, and her battle cry turns to a cry of pain as she's lifted off her feet. Shaking it's head like a dog, the creature clamps it's jaws down, and Lilah goes flying into the wall, the limb still clenched between it's teeth. Dazed, she barely registers the arms that lift her over a strong shoulder as fresh air whips across her face. The surviving Kindred clamber up into the waiting helicopter, and they quickly take off as the temple burns beneath them. Lilah stares down at Samael as he wraps the bleeding stump at her shoulder. Half his face lay in tattered strips against his skull, masking his expression from her.  
"Vada? Did she.." Lilah trails off.  
Samael shakes his head. "Its just us."  
Leaning back against the headrest, Lilah's mind turns to betrayal and vengeance. She squeezes her crimson eyes shut against the matching colored tears that threaten to fall as the helicopter makes it way back to base.


	3. Chapter 3

Giza, Egypt. Aug 1978.

The sun sets. Lilah rises from slumber with a quiet groan, her newly regrown arm throbbing with pain. An empty, red tinged bottle of tequila clatters to the ground as she climbs to her feet. She glances back at the other side of the cot and the empty expanse that seems to grow the longer she looks. Rolling her shoulder in its socket, she begins to dress, taking silent inventory of her healing wounds as she does. After heavy contemplation and pacing, she exits her quarters. The hallway is relatively empty, most of the remaining squad likely still tending to their own injuries and mourning. Moving on autopilot, Lilah rounds a corner, letting herself into a familiar room.  
  
As she enters, Samael comes into view, torso bare and still covered in wounds from the previous night. He nods at her in greeting, leaning against the wall. "Glad to see you chose to wake up tonight."  
Her crimson colored eyes scrutinizing him, Lilah responds: "She wouldn't have wanted me to shrink away without her. I'm better than that." She makes a beeline for his liquor cabinet, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of tequila. Twisting off the cap, she swirls the liquid inside, giving it a displeased look. She fills the two glasses and sets the bottle back down. "Sam, did last night's mission seem like standard to you?"  
He shrugs. "It seemed standard enough to get us there, but once we got there, the way things escalated was odd." Eschewing the glasses, Samael picks up the bottle, drinking directly from it's neck. "Lil, it's okay to give yourself time to grieve."  
Lilah drains one of the glasses, discards it and claims the second glass. "Grief is not a luxury I have the fucking time for. If that was a fucking trap...if she died because..." She trails off, peering at Samael out of the corner of her eyes.  
Cocking an eyebrow he takes another drink and holds the bottle out to refill her own glass. "If it was a trap they did a poor job of execution." Shaking his head he takes an unneeded breath. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"It wasn't a trap meant for all of us." She quickly finishes the drink in her hand and accepts a refill. Pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, she explains. "Vada and I were thinking of leaving. Going across the country. Going wherever. Just getting out of this. I think Ahmad found out, and I think this was his way of enacting damage control."  
A range of emotions cross Samael's face before he forces himself to stoicism. "You were going to leave?" Downing the rest of the bottle he throws it into the sink with a crash. "Who did you tell?"  
Lilah turns her gaze to him. "You." She finishes her third glass and sets it carefully on the counter, her expression guarded. "Is that a problem?"  
Leaning back and crossing his arms Samael shakes his head. "No. Not at all, but there has to be someone else who heard you were going to leave?"  
"Vada must have said something to someone." Lilah's lip lifts briefly in a snarl of anger. "S'not like I can ask her now."  
Samael shifts forward, leaning onto the counter. "What do you want to do about it? "  
Lilah's hands fall to her sides. "What I'm good at doing."  
She pauses, moistens her lips and half shrugs. "..one of the things I'm good at doing."  
  
"You should leave..." He stares down at the broken shards of glass in the sink. "If what you say is true then the longer you stay the more danger you're in."  
"Good," she comments, reaching towards the small holster around her thigh and caressing the handles of her knives. "Ahmad comes after me, it looks more like self defense and less like me slaughtering him on his own fucking turf."  
"You know he won't come after you himself." Samael stands to his full height and peers down at her. "He will send me or one of the others. Or he will set us all up again to die."  
Dismissively, Lilah responds: "Yeah, he probably will." She looks up at him, reaching up to tap his nose with one finger. "You gonna kill me, Sam?"  
Holding his hand out, blood began to pool in Samael's palm, stretching and pulling, the vitae quickly forms a sword. "Would you sign a death warrant for us all? The kids too?" Emotion creeps into his voice.  
She lowers her hand, wielding her own empty palms towards him. "You know I wouldn't. I pay my debts, and I take my own vengeance. I don't put my family in danger."  
"I know you wouldn't, and you would tear through the remaining squad like paper if it came to it..." Samael twirls the sword to a reverse grip, setting the tip on the floor as he continues in Arabic "...give it to me, contract me in blood to kill him." Setting his blade on the counter he continues once more in English. "I will make sure you have your vengeance along with keeping the group safe and intact."  
  
Angrily, Lilah retorts, "And put the target on you? No. Also, fuck you." She purses her lips, eyebrows knitting together in deep thought. "His life is mine to take." She trails off, her gaze unfocused.  
"Then what is your plan?" He waves the tip of the sword in front of her face. "I need to know so accommodations can be made"  
She catches the blade in one fist, holding it between them and meeting his eyes again. "I get him alone, and take him out. Then, you take me out." A drop of blood leaks from her fist, streaking the metal with caustic vitae. "At least, you make it look like you did."  
"You know, I'll never find a partner as good as you..." Samael quips quietly as he watches the blood fall down the blade.  
"No, you won't." There's a hint of overconfident snideness in her tone, but her expression is downcast.  
  
Dropping the blade, Samael moves from the counter and closes the distance between their bodies. Trying to keep his own expression impassive, emotion creeps into his amber eyes. He pulls Lilah close to him and kisses her forehead softly. "It will never get any better, just easier to deal with the pain as time goes on." Lilah opens her mouth to reply, possibly something smartassed, but she quickly closes it again. Needlessly swallowing a gulp of air, she wraps her arms around Samael, her head pressed against his chest. They stand together like that for some time, both reflecting on the years they've fought side by side. Pulling back from the embrace, Samael kisses Lilah's forehead once more before walking back over to the liquor cabinet  
  
He retrieves a dusty, older bottle. "One more drink of the good stuff before you disappear into the void forever."  
Pushing a huff of air from her lungs, Lilah straightens her posture, following Samael's movement with a steady gaze. "Now he brings out the good stuff, after I've already drank the rail shit."  
A humorless chuckle. "Hey, you grabbed the rail shit first." Looking down he swirls the amber liquid in the clear glass. His jaw tenses as he lifts the glass out and states in Arabic: "To the eternity of misery."  
Lilah sighs and repeats the sentiment, clinking her drink against Samael's before draining it. She places the empty glass on the counter. "I'll give us both another night to recover." She glances back up at him. "Sam, could I stay here through the day? It's not the same at my quarters without her there."  
Samael nods his head and points to the bed room. "You can have the bed, I'll take the floor." Stretching, he touches at his healing cheek. "You know tomorrow we will have to make it look convincing."  
Lilah's tone takes the slightest hint of a tease as she responds, "What, you've never slept in the same bed with a woman you're not fucking?" All at once her tone is serious again. "Don't worry about that. We will."  
He rolls his eyes at her. "Last thing I need is either one of us having a nightmare and waking up trying to strangle the other..."  
"Nothing I can't handle," Lilah shrugs, grabbing the bottle of bourbon.  
"I'm sure..." Samael pulls a loose fitting shirt over his torso and continues. "I have to take care of a couple things. I'll be back in a few hours."  
Bottle in hand, she saunters into the bedroom, settling onto his bed and stretching out her freshly grown back arm. "I'll try not to drink all your booze while you're gone."  
"That's a 50 year bottle of bourbon there. You'd better suck the alcohol out of a deodorant stick before you finish that off." Hearing Lilah's low chuckle, Samael flicks the light off in the kitchen as he makes his way to the door to leave, double checking locks on his way out.


	4. Chapter 4

Camden, New Jersey. Feb 2018.

The club is near empty, inhabited by more employees than patrons. The girls on the floor move slowly, almost wearily, even as they try to entice tips from the men at the tables. On the stage is a woman whose seemingly endless energy casts a stark contrast to the rest of the room. She dances with an unnatural agility that is barely noticed through the liquor-bleared vision of the paying customers. Her lips move with the lyrics of each song, fruitlessly hand picked for men who would listen to children's songs if it meant getting to leer at tits and ass.

  
Her eyes, a deep crimson color that is yet another feature disregarded by the clientele, settle on a singular gentleman near the stage. Taking mental note of certain distinguishing characteristics, the dancer steps up her game, making this man the focus of her attention. Shortly after tossing a stripped off stocking in his direction, she sees the man call a member of the staff to his side. They talk for a moment, and the man is taken into one of the champagne rooms. The staff member catches the dancer's eye, gesturing towards the room. She nods, finishing out her song before exiting the stage.  
  
A quick stop into the dancer's dressing area, before the woman stands outside of the champagne room. She mumbles something under her breath, and with a quiet crunch, a broken flash drive drops from her fist. Entering the room, she plasters on a smile and caresses the man's shoulder as she walks by his chair. The lights are low, and so is the man's voice as he comments: "You're more expensive than the other girls."  
She keeps the smile on her face, slowly moving her hips to the music. Resting a hand on each of his knees, she pushes his legs together, straddled them between her own. "You get what you pay for, honey."  
  
As she dances with vigor, always keeping the man's attention with a stroke of her hand or a flip of her hair, both his smile and the tented front of his trousers grow in size. The song changes to something more upbeat, and she slides off his lap, clad in only her panties and a thick lace garter. Turning away from her singular audience, she bends at the waist, giving him a full view as she slowly caresses her palms up her thighs. One hand slips under her garter, retrieving a small blade that she keeps out of his sight. Back still turned, her hips sway as she draws the blade over her tongue in a move reminiscent of a gambler kissing his dice. Faster than the man can notice, she spins around and he feels something strike his throat. His hands scrabble up, touching the blade sticking out from his flesh, looking bewildered. The woman takes her place on his lap again, swatting away the bloody hand that reaches towards her.  
  
"Shh," she whispers, pulling the blade out in a gout of gore as the man grows utterly silent. Patting him down as he dies, she retrieves a gun and his wallet, tossing them to the side with her discarded clothes. In a front pocket, she pulls out his phone. With the man still soundlessly gurgling his own blood, she turns on the phone, selecting the camera icon and recording his last few breaths. Satisfied, she tucks the phone into her garter and stands up to dress herself once more. She takes a towel from a shelf, wiping the smears of blood from her skin, grimacing at the thought of what other fluids have likely been wiped onto the same towel. She tucks his gun into her waistband and retrieves a large stack of cash from his wallet. With a last glance around the room, she slips out the door, the music once more filling her ears as she quickly disappears from view. Pausing only to drop the large wad of cash behind the bar, she sneaks out the front door as the bouncer lets in another customer. The money wouldn't be enough to make up for the trouble of having police storm the club, but hopefully it was enough for the staff to forget her face.  
  



End file.
